


A Voyage with the Man from Durazzo

by DarkandChaotic



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Historical, Anno 1454, Inventor!Harry, M/M, Mediterranean trade and travel, Muggle AU, Renaissance AU, Secret Organizations, assassin!Tom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-16 14:55:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 16,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29826675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkandChaotic/pseuds/DarkandChaotic
Summary: A story about how Harry Potter (the real person behind the brilliant inventor Adriano Peverelli) and Tom from Durazzo (also known as the terrifying assassin Prince of Serpents) meet and fall in love. Set at the start of 1454, on a voyage across the Mediterranean, a young man decides it is finally time to take fate into his own hands.Or that Renaissance AU where Harry woke up one morning and chose chaos.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort
Comments: 3
Kudos: 9
Collections: Tomarrymort Valentines Exchange 2021





	1. A Letter Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Snowdew_Winters](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snowdew_Winters/gifts).



To my dearest (God)Son Teddy,

I hope my letter finds you in good health and even better spirits. I've yet to see the sun for longer than a few moments but such is to be expected, given that my voyage takes place in the heart of winter. I already miss you dearly and those few moments of sunlight that I glimpse remind me solely of you. You may not be my own flesh and blood but you are still my son and I love you with all my heart. I deeply regret that we would not celebrate Christmas together as we are to do every year prior to this one.

I hope you are not too saddened by my absence. I think of you every waking moment and even find your laughter and your smiles in my dreams. I realize that we have not been apart like this since your Grandmother came to live with me, and you with her. I feel like this distance between us keenly and I search for ways to fill this nervous space in my heart.

Ah, but enough about your old man's tragic whining. How are you finding the festivities with Auntie Hermione and Uncle Ron? I know that not everybody decorates their homes with oranges and lemons like we do in Firenze but surely you can forgive Auntie and Uncle such dire transgressions. Rose and Hugo promised to keep you company, so please hold onto them and Nana until I return gloriously from my work.

I have already promised to bring you a gift from each and every city we dock our ships in and I intend to keep my word.,

Your Loving (God)Father,

Adriano Peverelli da Firenze

888888888

Lady Allegra, the blockade at Genoa's harbour has been lifted and we have immediately set sail, hoping to make up for the lost time; by the time this letter reaches you, I predict that our convoy at sea should have already left Palermo's waters as well. I need not tell you the importance and thus the urgency of my client's latest and rather untimely request. Keep Teddy close and a dagger closer. Do not leave the estate without Ron or Mione. We have talked about all other contingencies. The ships are as secure as they can be, given the circumstance. Alessio, bless his noble heart, does not let me out of his sight.

I travel under the name of Harry, a simple Englishman Potterer. I know the irony of using my birth name and origins as a guise is not lost on you. I fear my English is ever so slightly rusty, but my Genoese accent is very passable still.

You may have already guessed who my client is. Keep your eyes wide open and your ears to the ground. He is a sly old lion. But I am a cautious one. Do stay safe, Lady Andromeda Allegra, I mean it!

I wish you a pleasant, uneventful New Year,

Adriano Peverelli da Firenze

24.Dec.1453


	2. 30.Dec.1453

30.Dec.1453

After a thirteen-day blockade, we finally left Genoa's harbour only to find ourselves with a dark moody sea as company within the first two days of our voyage. My handwriting has suffered immensely as a result and I dare not attempt working on any of my schematics.

It seems my mood is as foul as the sea's. I've attempted to sketch one of our companion vessels but it seems my muse alone cannot battle the tightness in my temples nor the bile in my throat.

The Maiden Ariana is one of the three beauties carrying us across the sea to our first destination. They are identical caravels – The Maiden Ariana, The Flaming Fawkes and the vessel I am occupying, The Greater Good. They were commissioned by my employer specifically for this kind of business. The Greater Good's Captain, Alessio De Vega, has become a good friend of mine over the course of our voyages together.

I have boarded his ship in his effort to keep me safe. His company is, of course, a true respite to my taut nerves, as brief as it is. What we share is not a matter of the heart. Once there may have been stronger feelings on my part, but the sea is and always will be his one true love. I have long since learned to let go and move on.

I cannot help but feel lonely in the morning, however. Will I ever come to find a time when I wake to my beloved, without that bitter cold hand of dread and loss gripping at my heart?

* * *

It is early evening and the skies are clear. Palermo is directly north of us and to the North-West lies Tunis. If I try, I can just make out the shapes of the African shores. I have come up on deck for some fresh air. Alessio and his First Mate were about to have a discussion concerning ship-related matters and I felt it disrespectful for the Captain to have both his work affairs and bed affairs present at the same time.

The last blood-red hues of the sunset were quickly swallowed by the colours of twilight. The breeze brings the hot dry air of the Sahara, playing a dangerous game of mocking the winter season with its heat. This is where I find the Mediterranean to be at its most traitorous.

A shout of "Smoke on the Horizon!" disrupted my thoughts.


	3. 31.Dec.1453

31.Dec.1453

It is well past midnight, I believe. The dreadful excitement of the last few hours still has my heart beating wildly. The events that transpired are more or less a chaotic jumble in my mind, but here are the facts that I know for certain happened in this order.

After the lookout made the call, one of the sailors went to the captain, Alessio. When I saw him emerge, he bellowed for all hands on deck. I have never seen him this powerful in my life and, I admit, the sight of him made my heart skip. Such confidence and authority. The life of a Captain at sea suited him.

Now is a good time to mention that our three caravels are in pristine condition, each armed to the teeth. They are medium-sized, of Portuguese build, fast and manoeuvrable, suited both for deep waters and shallow coastal waters, such as the ones surrounding Africa.

Each caravel's crew consisted of a Captain. Alessio was The Greater Good's captain. He was the youngest but I dare say that did not make him any less competent than his counterparts. The Flaming Fawkes' Captain was a man known as Alastor Moody – a sour, grumpy and scarred Englishman with whom my parents used to do work. Or so I've been told.

I find it strange he does not recognize me. Perhaps my life in Florence has changed me so much that I am no longer the spitting image of my late father. Or, which I find more likely, he chooses not to recognize me. I do not let my guard down, whatever the case. I am here as nothing more than an employed consultant, responsible for the completion of a truly monstrous masterpiece.

Dumbledore knows who I am. There is no reason or an alternative for me to believe otherwise. He chooses for us to play this game. I am not the prize. I am a means to an end. That is the reason I drain that old man for all he is worth. I will not be a pawn. Never again! Not on his terms at the very least. 

I digress.

I have gone very astray from my original thoughts, haven't I?

I was talking about our caravels. Our in the sense that I am part of this voyage. Aboard The Greater Good, we have 25 good men that run our ship, myself included.

Where was I? Ah, yes. The third Captain, Tomaso Santo. A good man with a good head on his shoulders.

After the Captains, each ship had a navigator. Ours was Silvio Morosini, a distant cousin of Alessio and a bastard child to one of Tomaso Morosini's sons. Yes. That Morosini, the one on the Council of Ten. Silvio doesn't often talk about his familial relations, though he does seem to have taken after his father's footsteps. He does love to test Alessio's patience on every occasion he gets. And while my heart warms up at the sight of my distant beau being very jealous, I've made no attempts to discourage Silvio's flirting.

Either Alessio commits to me or I'd have Silvio keep me company. And since neither of the two has happened, I've resigned myself to not driving a rift between the two of them. So there you have it. This impasse has been going on for the last three years. I will dwell on this no further.

Aside from our sailors, who are also armed to the teeth, mind you, we have a single physician, who takes up space aboard Captain Santo's ship, The Maiden Ariana. The crews of the three ships total 80 or so men.

I do not make this hefty exposition lightly. I want it to be fully understood why all of us had the reaction we had when we first came upon this destruction that we faced. We are an experienced crew, even myself. We are ready to take down any foes in our way. The discipline of the sailors is akin to that of veteran soldiers. In these turbulent times, sailing the Mediterranean Sea is not for the inexperienced.

Saying all of this, having all of this on my mind and in my heart, it is difficult to imagine explaining in full detail the dreadful sight we found before us. A conglomeration of broken wood, bodies and unidentifiable debris, what Alessio called the remains of at least four ships.

There was silence and there was death.

We began our solemn task of searching for survivors. Sharks were already feasting on some of these unlucky fellows' bodies. The stench was not as horrible as it could have been in summertime but that was the only mercy we were afforded during our grim task.

"Pirates," one of the older sailors who was with me said. "See how there is barely any signs of cargo? There were at least two brigs and not enough cargo to fill a single sloop."

And he had been right. There were nary any crates or barrels. No boxes or chests. Only the floating wooden debris of cannibalized ships.

It was in such a quiet, solemn moment that I saw him. My eyes locked onto the form of a man who was battered and bruised, something that was visible even in this dim light, barely illuminated by our torches. His blue eyes found mine, desperately holding onto that spark of life. And just as I took in a breath to call out to him, the last of his strength failed him and he sunk into the inky blackness of the sea.

It is here where events become more of a blur, a flurry of emotion and trepidation, a primal fear for my fellow man, for his life. The sailors tell me that I jumped into the shark-infested waters like I was returning home after a long and arduous journey. Then I pulled the drowning man above water to let him have some air... and it is at this point that I had returned to my senses and I remember a hot cup and a thick woollen blanket around my bare shoulders.

And there, beside me, was the man whose life I had saved.

* * *

31.Dec.1453

Very little sleep has found me last night. Alessio has yet to sleep and he has been conferring with his fellow captains on board The Flaming Fawkes. I feel tired and aching, the ache that predates a nasty cold. Perhaps taking a midnight dip in the middle of the Mediterranean Sea during winter was not one of my smartest moments; and Alessio did chew me out for it...

But I had saved a life! And as such, a little cold would not be something worth regretting if the price was _saving a life_.

Of the three survivors we found, only mine still takes breath with the first rays of the sun. I was told his name is Tom and that he is from Durazzo. He is a middle-aged man, tall, with dark curly hair that was now in complete messy disarray. His eyes were this blue colour that immediately drew me in. They were not at all like Dumbledore's whose piercing gaze would always make me feel like a chastised child.

They were... they were the kind of eyes that made me throw myself into the sea in the middle of winter to save their owner. If I say he took my breath away, I would not be lying.

I wish Alessio was here with me. I feel restless, tired, alone. But it cannot be helped. I will wait for our guest to wake up and perhaps even speak with him. Oh, what do I even say to him?

How do I even introduce myself!? Greetings, my lovely fellow, I am Harry! But actually, I am Adriano da Firenze, inventor extraordinaire! But _actually,_ my real name was Harry all along!

How I loathe all these secrets and secrecy, no matter how necessary they are. I barely saved myself! I am still suffering for saving Teddy and the Lady Black. I do not regret doing so. The entire household is completely smitten with little Teodoro from the first day he set foot in my home with his grandmother. I only regret not being able to keep his Grandfather's name. Edward Tonks had been a good man. But names have power. Whether for good or bad, Edward Lupin is now Teodore Peverelli, my sole heir, my son in all things but blood.

* * *

  
  
  


"What do you mean Alessio had him taken to the Flaming Fawkes?"

"Not so loud! You're not supposed to know that!"

"Is it because I've taken an interest in him? Is it that obvious? Is this his jealousy speaking? He always does that! Strings me along but never lets me go!"

"Oh, mio piccolo leone marino*, had it been his jealousy I wouldn't have bothered talking to you in these hushed tones." Silvio smiled sadly.

"This was an order from Captain Mad-Eye, himself. And smile, my Sea Lion. The others would be less inclined to pry at the sight of your dazzling smile."

Harry thought of his godson and forced a smile on his face. Silvio could tell it was not genuine, but it should be enough.

"Alessio left me with orders to take our fair lady, The Greater Good, to Tripoli."

"Tripoli? I know we are close but...why? Does Dumbledore even have a trading license with Tripoli? Actually, you know what, Silvio? I do not wish to know. I will go to the market and buy the most expensive dyes and cloth that my eyes land upon. And I will put it in my expenses bill."

"But...don't you always do that? Put everything on Master Dumbledore's tab?"

"I have never done it in Tripoli, though. Let's get him a trading license!" Harry's eyes lit up with pure unadulterated mischief. "And a hefty donation to the local church or cathedral. There is one here, is there not? Have you been to Tripoli before, Silvio?"

"Alessio has been. This would be my first time here. We can ask the locals if you're not feeling like talking to my cousin right now." Harry's eager nod at Silvio's words did not deter the navigator from Harry's original topic of conversation.

Silvio has known Harry for more or less three years now. In these three years, he learned a few things about this strange semi-Italian Englishman that, should he be left to his own devices, would never come out of the water had he no need of air. He'd be off in his own little world, marvelling at the little beauties and miracles of nature, wax poetic about how awesome his adoptive son is, have low key romantic drama with Alessio (every single time they meet, no exceptions)... and make Dumbledore haemorrhage money like it was going out of style.

Quite honestly, Harry always wore his heart on his sleeve. He deserved better than what Alessio was giving him. What Alessio should be giving him. He was also incredibly brilliant and full of life and still holding onto childlike wonder for the world.

What Silvio knows about Harry is that he is an orphan who had been taken in by some of his elderly and quite influential distant family, the Peverellis. Harry does not advertise this, but it is impossible not to know things when, well, you spend months on end at sea with the same twenty or so people. Usually, always, in fact, what happened on The Greater Good, stayed on The Greater Good.

Harry may have his heart on his sleeve but he held onto his secrets tight. Alessio, on the other hand, when his jealousy stirred him, was quite loose-lipped. So, naturally, Silvio knew most of what Alessio knew, and, as Alessio was the captain of this ship, Silvio ended up knowing pretty much anything of importance.

Had Silvio been a smarter man, he would've made good on all that knowledge and made a fortune. Instead, Silvio preferred to be an honest, godly man and made a fortune in good, honest friends. He considered Harry to be a good, honest friend. Heck, he's even met Teddy. Not even Alessio could boast that accomplishment!

Now, Silvio knew exactly what Harry was going to do. It wasn't a stretch of the imagination to come to such conclusions. In fact, Silvio even took into consideration the amount of time Harry would need to accomplish whatever his latest shenanigans would be, so he made sure to prepare an alibi and royally piss off his cousin-captain in the process, which was always fun.

* * *

31.Dec.1453

The convoy arrived late in the evening. My nerves and excitement at the prospect of meeting Tom again were nearly getting the better of me. Thankfully Alessio was too busy with whatever was going on and my excuse of feeling under the weather after last night was plausible enough for him to let me be.

I feel sad like I have lost something, but I know it in my heart that I did not lose anything I hadn't really had. Alessio is married to his work and I should be smart enough to see it plainly with my eyes. I still feel this sadness, the neglect and bitterness, the superficiality that Alessio always had within our relationship.

Has our relationship always been like this? Was it always just a physical release for him? Just pleasure? I'd talk with him about this but he would dismiss me like he always does. And then I'd turn my gaze elsewhere and be possessive and say all those sweet nothings I want to hear him say.

I need to stop lying to myself. I need to let go.

I need to speak to Tom. Perhaps... perhaps he'd also feel the same way as I? My mind says I am a fool, but my heart is singing with just the thought of this slim chance. And aren't we all fools one way or another? Is it wrong that I wish to find happiness for myself?

I need to, at the very least, see if this feeling I have is real and not just some daydream that my rush in the cold winter sea waters created.

Tomorrow morning, I will have my answers. I leave my journal with thoughts of new chances, new lives and thoughts of my family and friends back in Genoa. I wish for Teddy's new year to be even better than the last, for Lady Andromeda, his Grandmother, to find some happiness.


	4. 01.Jan.1454

01.Jan.1454

ALESSIO BANNED ME FROM LEAVING THE SHIP! THAT BASTARD!

I am still locked in my room. Contrary to what most of the crew thinks, I do have my own sleeping quarters. It's located in the lower decks, I sleep in one of the officer cabins. Alessio has locked me in and it appears he hasn't stationed a guard to keep me where he left me. Good. I may be able to unlock this door if I can just find my-

* * *

"Harry? Are you still in there?"

"Silvio, is that you, my good man? Yes, I am still here. I am quite distressed at this turn of events, my friend and I would greatly appreciate it if you can aid my escape plan."

"Aid your escape plan? Oh, mio piccolo leone marino, I _am_ your escape plan! I got the spare key to your door."

"Silvio, I will kiss you!"

The navigator laughed quietly and quickly unlocked Harry's door.

"Now, as much as I would love a kiss from you, my little sea lion, I'd rather you hurry and go to your beau. You don't have much time. He is in the hold of The Maiden Ariana. I do not know more details but I know that Captain Mad-Eye ordered him incarcerated as soon as he saw him. Do try to stay out of trouble. Alessio you can handle, but Mad-Eye is a whole 'nother beast."

The ship was empty save for a few of the sailors that were on the main deck. Giuseppe, the ship's cook was staring off into the distance and sipping on his smuggled wine. The few others had their backs to Harry. With practised since early childhood ease, Harry quietly slinked away in the semi-darkness of the evening and made his way towards The Maiden Ariana. Unlike her two sisters, The Maiden Ariana seemed to be bustling with activity. Harry recognized some of his guards on the ship's main deck. There were people that he assumed were the men-at-arms from The Fawkes' and The Maiden's own crews.

It was a bit too tight a fit for Harry to go through the top. So Harry slinked closer to the ship's sides and promptly and deftly began climbing and clinging onto ropes and wooden planks. Despite the cannons taking a large amount of space in the openings, the young man still managed to find a way to squeeze himself through.

Ever so quietly, like a cat on the prowl, the green-eyed man took stock of his location. Of course, everything looked more or less the same – the three ships were identical. He knew where to go from his location and he knew he had to avoid being detected.

As Silvio said, Alessio is one thing. Mad-Eye Moody, however, was a real cranky one. In fact, Harry was certain it was his voice that he was hearing, the muffled yells coming above him from the Wardroom.

"Seems like Alessio is here as well by the sounds of it." Harry mumbled to himself and carefully made his way down to the hold. Ships were made of wood and creaked but Harry was light and his steps were soft. There were a few close calls and the last few minutes of doing this felt like an eternity.

Finally, Harry stood in the ship's hold, long jet-black hair pinned in place as to not bother him during his escapades, dressed lightly in a simple shirt and pants. He was barefoot. Not the most pleasant but certainly the stealthiest of decisions.

Tripoli's winter night air was certainly still carrying a slight chill, but it was nothing compared to what actual winter was capable of in Europe. It had been many years since Harry had felt the chill of British winter. He much more prefered the soft and sunny weather of the Mediterranean.

With his heart pounding in his throat, Harry finally saw him.

He was tall. Almost imposingly so. Broad shoulders and a square jaw. High cheekbones that could cut you. And those legs! This was a man who spent his days bristled with physical activity. For a few more moments Harry indulged in marvelling at his form before he remembered he had to stay hidden. Perhaps his guards were changing? Harry did not know why they'd leave their prisoner to his own devices. Did they not know that an idle mind was a devil's playground? Oh well. Harry was certain they'd learn from their mistakes.

"Hello there!" he greeted quietly but enthusiastically, step as light as freshly fallen snow and smile as bright as the sun and all the stars in the sky combined.

"If you have come to gawk, boy, take your business elsewhere, you will not find cheap entertainment with me- You!"

The man had a sharp wit and a sharper tongue despite his heavily battered condition. But as soon as he lifted his head to look at Harry, all that he had to say died in his throat.

Harry stood there, like a deer in front of a wolf, his green eyes wide and contrasting beautifully to his rich black hair and tanned skin. He was a boy, at least to the middle-aged man. Eyes like that, those same eyes just as before he woke up, did not belong to a real person. They held too much power – a power that he did not want anyone to have over him.

It was such a strange thing too. Perhaps it had been his injuries, but he clearly remembered being the vivid green eyes of the person who dragged him back to the surface. He felt a little silly, but surely...Well, mermaids did not exist, now did they? Or mermen, in this case.

“I am really, really sorry for having you locked up in here. Captain Mad-Eye is a bit weird like that. I will try to talk to him and-”

“Do not waste your breath on him, boy. Leave before you find yourself in trouble.”

“But-”

“No buts. Leave and do not be involved in this.”

“I brought some bread, cheese and wine.”

Tom blinked at the boy. Surely such naive and kind people seized to exist long ago. Surely this was some trick of Moody's. His hunger gnawed at him and he'd need at least some energy to escape.

“...very well. Give them here.”

Harry would've given him his coat as well if it would have had a chance to fit.

“You saved me from drowning, did you not? So long as you stay far away from me, consider the debt paid.”

Harry blinked at him, too busy gawking at him awkwardly to acknowledge his words as what they were – a thinly veiled threat. Look at him! Into one ear and out the other! Really now, where do they make them this stupid? Was he French? No, the boy's accent and looks, and mannerisms were very far from the pompous French. Moody runs with a mixed Portuguese and Genoese crew. Perhaps he was Genoese?

Tom made another slice of the cheese with the small knife the boy stupidly gave him. The bread was freshly baked too.

“You're from Florence, aren't you, boy?” Tom took another gulp of the wine. It was good quality. “What are you doing with these people? It is not safe.”

Harry flushed like a properly chastised child, his thick black lashes fluttering, like dark butterflies over emeralds. He mulled over what to say for a moment before drawing in a breath.

“Work is work.” the boy shrugged. “If they can afford my commission, I'll do the job.”

The boy had the gall to grin impishly at his own statement. Tom felt his own amusement spike, despite himself.

“And what do you do, boy? Such a pretty thing as yourself should hardly be subjected to dull physical labour.” Tom let his eyes roam up and down Harry's body, mostly for show, but he did appreciate the view.

“It's a secret,” Harry smirked as his voice took on a surprisingly husky tone that Tom found himself surprised to feel jolts of fire in his veins and gut.

Such a foolish boy. Clearly, he had no idea who he was. It felt refreshing if Tom was to be completely honest with himself. When was the last time he had the chance for something new and exciting like this?

His games with Dumbledore had been going on for too long. Perhaps...

“You know, we never really introduced each other. My name is Harry.” the boy said suddenly with a flourish and did a very elegant and theatrical bow.

“Harry from Florence. You don't look like a Harry.”

“And you don't look like a Tom, but here we are.”

“So you know my name?”

“Rumors spread fast on a ship,” Harry stated as a matter of factly. “It is I that is usually in the centre of them all. Very noble of you to steer the spotlight to yourself.”

“You are playing with fire, boy. Fire and brimstone. I am a dangerous man, are you not afraid that I could reach through this cage and strangle you with one hand? My hand would fit around your neck oh so perfectly. Just so.”

The boy was truly witless. Why would he even allow another person, a stranger no less, to wrap a hand around their neck? And smile! The boy was smiling! That daft brat! Maybe he was enjoying himself a wee bit too much.

“I have an offer for you.” said the boy, again voice husky and purring and those green eyes practically glowing in the semi-darkness of the ship's hold.

“What could you possibly offer me, boy, that I already do not have?”

“Your freedom.”

The little bastard had the audacity to grin in his face!

“Well now. And how do you think you can manage that?”

“With these, my dear Tom.”

The boy pulled out a few hairpins from his messy bun. Tom blinked owlishly.

“And what would you want in return, Harry? Surely your offer cannot be without strings attached.”

“A kiss.”


	5. 01.Jan.1454-2

**_'Il Piccolo Leone Marino di Firenze'_ -15th Century Renaissance Florentine Floral Motif**

* * *

01.Jan.1454

"Well then. What are you waiting for?" Tom gestured toward the lock оn his cage. He expected the young man to struggle a bit with it, but his deft fingers impressed him with the swiftness with which he had now found his freedom.

Well then, a deal is a deal. He might as well make a show of it. Every muscle in his body ached and his headache was just barely subsiding after eating some food. But he wanted to show the kid how it's done. And he did.

He grabbed Harry, who gasped at the sudden motion and bent him down, one hand around his waist, the other supporting the young man's head. Impossibly green eyes fluttered like butterflies and a flush appeared on the tanned boy's skin. His thick black locks escaped from his messy bun, his breathing was shallow and Tom couldn't help but think just how delectable and vulnerable his pretty boy was.

Tom lowered his head for a kiss and the boy's hands wrapped around his neck and head almost instinctively. Their lips touch and his kiss went from sensual and gentle to deep and rough and when Harry tried to gasp for air, he used the opportunity to explore his mouth as well.

When they finally pulled away, what felt like an eternity in heaven, they both felt light-headed and, despite his best efforts, Tom couldn't control his breathing as well as he wanted to. He took great satisfaction at just how bothered and flushed this kid was. His hair was a complete mess, his lips were red and raw and parted, as Harry was still gasping for air, almost disbelieving of what just transpired.

That was what he wanted, was it not? Hopefully, he was satisfied because Tom always gave as good as he got, especially considering his current circumstances.

“Well then,” he started, still slightly out of breath, much to his own dismay,” I suggest you run to wherever you came from, boy. I'd rather someone as pretty as you not get flogged for being associated with me at this particular moment. Well? Off you go then, my lovely.”

The boy seemed to finally heed his words and, with a shit-eating grin on his face, handed him a few more of his hairpins (they were of high quality and expensive, Tom noted) and skittered away and up from the hold.

Tom returned to his cage and closed it carefully, to maintain the illusion that it was locked. Of course, the boy forgot his knife. A knife engraved with what seemed to be a seal and some floral motifs. The knife was adorned with the mark of a prominent Florentine blacksmith.

“Stupid boy,” Tom mumbled, almost affectionately, as he studied the knife.

Perhaps such was the cost of his beauty – to be flighty of wit and driven by his emotions. And, even so, he could still feel the boy's hot lips upon his own, as if seared onto the tender skin of his mouth. He could still taste him, feel the pull of his hands onto his back and hair. He tucked the knife away and could not help but grind foolishly himself as he took bites of bread with cheese and sips of the obviously expensive wine that the boy had brought him.

* * *

01.Jan.1454

He kissed me! I've never felt this exhilarated my whole life! Perhaps when Teddy took his first steps or said his first words. But this is different. It still leaves me breathless just thinking about that kiss. I have no idea how I found myself back in my cabin in the lower deck of The Greater Good. Silvio just chuckled when he saw me and locked me back in.

Now I am trying to gather my thoughts. A difficult task when all of them go straight to the man from Durazzo fakely locked up away in The Maiden Ariana's hold. The taste of wine on his lips, the way his strong arms held me so securely, the safety I felt in that embrace.

It reminds me of the first time Alessio and I started our relationship and at the same time, there is no comparison. Perhaps it is my resentment speaking. Perhaps I have truly fallen for this man at first sight. Whatever brought me on this path, I shall pursue it, I shall discover what it means for me and my future.

In the meantime, I shall write a strongly worded letter to Dumbledore. My current situation is absolutely not something I should allow! I am not one of Dumbledore's henchmen! I am a (ridiculously) well-paid consultant and I am part of this crew's mission in the capacity of such. My job is to choose the most appropriate materials and to oversee the relevant deals with the merchants we shall be dealing with. As such any actions that directly impede my functions, not to mention my standing within the mission, are _**absolutely impermissible**_!

This is obviously Captain Mad-Eye's doing but that Alessio went along with it speaks volumes of just how 'close' we are. I feel used and manipulated in that regard. And this isn't the first time. I've let Alessio's behaviour to go unpunished because I held onto the hope that we'd eventually...

But it doesn't matter anymore, now does it? This is the final drop in my sea of false hopes. Perhaps, once my voyage is over I will grieve the loss of what I had with Alessio. Most of it was beautiful and I shall endeavour to look upon those memories with warmth and affection.

* * *

Alessio saw to me around evening. It has been hours since my return and I had plenty of time to compose myself and to succumb to the inevitable annoyance at my own boredom. He did not apologize for locking me up for the entire day and I did not deign him worthy to speak to me. Whatever he had to tell me died in his throat. He did leave my room unlocked.

Perhaps he understands he overstepped? Perhaps I was too harsh? It is not his nor Mad-Eye's decision to lock me up. It is simply not up to them! I am not a criminal nor am I a petulant child! I look forward to the morning and I dearly hope that Mad-Eye or Alessio do not decide to immediately set out. If I do not find a gift for Teddy from Tripoli tomorrow, there will be hell to pay!


	6. Chapter 6

02.Jan.1454

We will be staying in Tripoli for three more days. I found myself up early this morning and Silvio was very happy to inform me of the news.

As stated before, I have never been to Tripoli but that did not mean I didn't know of the sights of the city. Three days, however, would be too little time to really explore. I had certain things I wished to find, most importantly a gift for Teddy, perhaps some kind of toy, and a gift for the Lady Allegra, his grandmother.

Much like Florence, Tripoli was known for the quality of its tools and for the excellent cloth they produced – various types of cotton and silk, including velvet. I am certain Nana Dromeda would love the luxurious cloth. She had been talking about buying new bed sheets and curtains for quite a while. And, if I am not mistaken, I need to be on the lookout for candy and, of course, sugarloaf and qahwa. Qahwa would be very difficult to get a hold of, but I will try my best. Well, best be on my way before Alessio thinks of imprisoning me again.

* * *

Qahwa is definitely an acquired taste. But the locals swear by it's magical empowering qualities and how it brings energy and wakefulness. For some strange reason, this bitter drink made of the roasted beans of a type of red berry bush brings back memories of my Dad Sirius. Of when he first brought me to Italy to an old ancestral home, long forgotten by most but the main branch of the Blacks. I was but a small child then, scared and not understanding all these changes in my life. These are pleasant, but mostly bittersweet memories.

I miss Dad.

I sip quietly on my hot bitter drink. It is early morning but the streets of Tripoli are already bustling with activity. Tripoli is a very tightly packed city. The stone buildings are large and the streets are narrow, the walls are thick and, despite the lack of natural fortifications, I felt safe behind the thick stone walls that surrounded the whole area.

Despite the fact that I am a foreigner, I am not an unusual sight. There are many people here, I see people from all over North Africa as well as the Middle East, There are Jews, some Europeans like myself, a little bit of everything.

This city lives and breathes for the trade. I finish my qahwa in relative peace and opt to finish this soft, still warm wheat bun on the go. I wanted to see what Tripoli would offer, beyond what I have read or heard. I was not fearful of being swindled. Despite my young age, before Dad's passing, I used to accompany him on various trade deals and voyages.

It is thanks to his wits and opportunism that I live this life of luxury today. I learned a lot from him. I knew the current prices of most items on the market, given that I often have to work out deals for materials directly from the source.

Despite all of this, I am not actually a merchant. Dad was the merchant. Myself? I am an inventor. It is a glamorous title for somebody who sees a problem and finds a solution to it. I have ideas and I have the means to make them happen. Even though I am not a merchant that does not mean I am not to benefit from all the tricks of the trade that I learned.

Something caught my eye and I focus on that movement.

My eyes widen. It is Tom!

I was elated and quite surprised to see him. I had thought he would be long gone and it would be a miracle to meet him again. I believe the miracle happened a lot sooner than expected.

“My dear fellow!” I called out to him, feeling my mouth pull into a huge, happy smile.

He looked up, recognizing my voice and looking around for a little while before spotting me.

“Harry. What are you wearing?”

“My disguise, of course. How am I to buy things peacefully with an entourage of boring, intimidating guards?”

“So you are a merchant?” he asked after a moment of silence, mulling over my words.

My mouth stretches even further into a bigger grin.

“No.” I did not elaborate any further. I liked keeping an air of mystery about me. “Have you been to Tripoli before, my dearest Tom?”

“I have. And you have not,” he stated as a matter-of-factly.

“As you can see, I am all by myself and in desperate need of a guide. Would you like to join me in my pursuit of quality textiles, candy and whatever else this wonderful city has to offer?”

* * *

The boy was as exuberant as always. Perhaps my initial assessment of his wits was wrong. Behind that joyous persona of his stood a character that was capable enough to avoid Mad-Eye's hand-picked men. Even I, myself, struggled to recognize him in his current attire that, combined with his deeply tan complexion and thick black hair, almost completely hid him among the locals.

I did not expect to meet the boy again. In fact, I was fully intent on keeping his little unintentional gift, the knife he gave me to slice the cheese, as a memento of our meeting and my quick escape. There was more to him than met the eye, as plentiful and as gratifying the sight of him was.

Had he been a few moments too late, I would've been on my way out of Tripoli. The visit to the physician was necessary to prepare me for the next leg of my mission. Furthermore, I was to meet my contact in the city, to arrange a letter to update my father of the situation. I did not volunteer the information that I have lost the family locket. My current condition was precarious enough. I'd deal with this complication at a later date when my whole body did not ache in several different kinds of ache.

And now the boy is here with me again. I will not deny that he is a refreshing reprieve from my own troubles.

I agreed to be his guide with far greater ease and eagerness than I expected.

* * *

I have never seen a being as energetic as he. I still bear my suspicions that he is not entirely human. His movements are energetic, flowing, full of life. He speaks fluent if heavily accented Arabic and haggles like the best of them. Even if he isn't a merchant, he certainly acts like raised by one. He inspects the silks with a sharp, critical eye and buys only the best of the best.

I watch him, mesmerized by his love of life, by his liveliness and honest kindness. I wonder what is it like to live in a world like his, where one sleeps at night without worrying that he'd wake to a knife in the gut or heart?

I wonder what it would be like to spend my life with him.


	7. Chapter 7

02.Jan.1454

“Look! Tom! This fits you so well!”

Harry was trying to buy Tom an attire similar to his own.

“High quality, keeps the sand away, perfect for long trips!” 

Harry decided it was a necessity since they narrowly avoided Mad-Eye's men twice now and Harry wasn't quite ready to return to be locked up in his cabin. Again. Against his wishes no less.

They had lunch at a fairly well-known eatery, both dressed in local attires. Harry paid for their luxurious food and it was only halfway through the main course that Tom realized Harry was probably courting him. Scratch that. Harry had been courting him from the moment their eyes first met.

The realization brought made his face flush. He desperately hoped the boy next to him thought it was from the spicy dishes.

Tom decided to make small talk with Harry. The boy was overly talkative, bubbly and precious, charming and mischievous, like a little devil masquerading as an angel. Harry was very outspoken, unusually so. He had the mannerisms of a man who could afford to be if Tom could wildly guess from the way he spent money in the past few hours.

He should be on his way to Alexandria, he really should. His father had given him a mission and invoking his wrath had never been a pleasant experience, to say the least.

And yet...he couldn't make himself leave this boy, this enchanting creature that was showing him all the colours of the world and he was seeing them for the first time. 

They were sitting side by side, thighs occasionally touching, fingers occasionally brushing. Harry's eyes were truly like gems, a most unique colour that not even the emeralds adorning Tom's family crest could capture.

How old was he? Early twenties, so at least Tom reassured himself the boy wasn't that much of a boy, but a man with boyish looks. Did he have a family, wife? No, Harry was very much still single and enjoying life as a free spirit. He did, however, have a son, of whom he spoke only highest praises. A godson, but one he raised as his own along with the help of the child's maternal grandmother. 

Evening found Tom wondering where the time went as he and his lovely companion walked all over Tripoli, taking in the sights, the sounds, the food, the cultures, everything. They had watched the sunset together at Harry's request but Tom was far more content watching the young man's face as it displayed each and every minor change in emotion. The green eyes glittered with life, those thick dark eyelashes fluttered like butterflies, that almost delicate-looking jawline and that neck that he could still remember the feel of in his hand.

“Harry?”

“Yes, Tom?” The boy responded as he turned to look at him, a lazy, comfortable look on his face, the kind lions had when they felt safe, at home.

Tom felt the need to caress that face and so he did. It felt natural to then lean in and kiss the boy. No words needed to be said when kisses spoke for themselves. Harry responded with kisses of his own. They were gentle, careful; pecks, caress of lips upon lips, asking silent questions. Is this OK? Are you OK with this? Do you want this?

Yes! Yes! Yes!

Those lips responded and the kisses became more fervent, but still gentle, still holding onto that fragile apprehension that bloomed along with the start of a new relationship.

It was crazy, it was ridiculous. They barely knew anything of each other and they found themselves gravitating like this toward one another. Tom was twice as old as this exuberant, beautiful boy. But it was almost as if Harry was the one leading him, teaching him what to do with this relationship. Maybe it was the mystery of it all, the thrill of the forbidden, of the unknown that pushed them together. 

The boy did not know this, but he was working with his father's sworn enemies. Still, he had, for the sake of this boy, spared every single last one of those poor bastards that had stood in his way last night. Everything was still aching from head to toe, new bruises on top of old ones. He barely felt anything other than the boy's lips upon his. 

This was wrong. This was dangerous. 

Tom didn't care. 

Yet...

“I must go,” he uttered quietly, almost sadly.

“I know. Will we see each other again?”

“Hmm. Let us not make it a chance meeting. I am heading for Alexandria early tomorrow. I have... work there for a while. Is your journey taking you in that direction? If so, I will wait for you.” His voice was husky with want but right about now, he knew that neither he nor the boy had suitable accommodations for a proper tryst.

He did, however, have suitable accommodations in Alexandria. He was sure to surprise the boy and prepare a proper welcome for him should their paths cross there.

“We're setting sail in three days' time. Or two – today is almost over, after all.” Harry said breathily, eyes glued to Tom's lips, eager for more kisses. “ Our destination is Alexandria as well. We should be there around January 8th.”  
“When you get to Alexandria, look for a man called Zahi the Eagle. He will take you to me, or, at the very least, keep us in contact.”

With those words and one final swift kiss, Tom took his leave. Harry spent his time in Tripoli almost completely avoiding the convoy and the crews of the ships, feeling dazed and left wanting. By the time they had to leave for Alexandria, Harry had gotten an exquisite collection of colourful ceramics, had discovered the amazing effects sugar had on qahwa, to the horror of his guards, who had the misfortune (or was it fortune) of barely seeing their charge for the duration of their stay in Tripoli.


	8. Chapter 8

06.Jan.1454

It wasn't until halfway on the journey to Alexandria that Alessio and Harry finally had an actual conversation.

“You can't be still mad at me, Harry. I did it for your own safety. There was a dangerous man on board! One that is directly involved with-”

“I am not your slave or your wife, Alessio!” Harry interrupted the captain, almost snarling. “How can you possibly think locking me up like some petulant child or an unwanted pet would be a logical course of action!? I am not mad at you, Alessio. I am very much disappointed and I am afraid that I don't think I can trust you ever again. Not after something like this.”

“It wasn't like that, Harry, I-”

“Then what was it like, Alessio? Where do you draw the line of acceptable behavior? You said you do not want us to be lovers, but you still took me to your bed every night. You said we are friends but do friends do this to each other? How am I supposed to still trust your judgment when your words, intentions and actions are all on a journey in three different directions!”

“I had to keep you safe for your own good! Your life was in grave danger and even though you refuse to understand this from my point of view, I am still the Captain of this ship and so long as you are onboard you will do as I say!”

“So I am to stay in my cabin from now on, is that what you are saying, Alessio?”

“Yes!”

Harry took a deep breath and sighed. He had hoped Alessio would be more understanding. But Alessio only saw a threat to his authority, and, as he is to do when angered, he pulled out the 'I'm the Captain' card. Harry wasn't willing to keep the peace. Not anymore, not when he was quite done with Alessio pulling the strings to his heart. Every journey they've been together, the hardships they had endured, the bad times, the good times. It always started with hope and it always ended with heartbreak for Harry.

Harry loved Alessio. Harry still loves Alessio. But sometimes it is too much and Harry knew he had to let go. Now with Tom in his heart and mind, he found it so much easier to untangle himself from this mess.

The silence was thick. Alessio knew he had pushed too hard this time. And his aggravation quickly turned into regret as he felt that his anger had gotten the better of him, again.

“You are quite right, Alessio. You are the Captain of this ship. And, so long as that is the case, you supposedly have authority over me. However, and do pay attention to this, Alessio, nowhere in my contract does it state that I must be travelling with the convoy to ensure the completion of my assignment. My job description specifically mentions overlooking the selection and purchase of the required materials and tools and nowhere does it say that I must be travelling with the convoy handling the cargo.”

The proverbial pin dropped and it was like the calm before the storm. Alessio, that gorgeous, beautiful man, was gaping at Harry. It took him some time but his expression turned from shocked to betrayed, ugly and furious, that Harry dared to question his good intentions. Harry did not react to that display and was prepared to handle whatever explosion was about to happen with calm and dignity. Alessio needed to see that he was serious.

But the explosion did not come. Alessio took deep breaths and paced in his room, a hand occasionally dashing through his hair. Finally, he stopped and turned towards the other.

“Do you know who that man was? The man you saved? That 'Tom of Durazzo' that you gushed over so lovingly?”Alessio's voice was calm, but it was the calmness of the still waters of a lake, covered in a layer of thin ice. “That man is an assassin. And not just any assassin, Harry. He's the Prince of Serpents. Mad-Eye has his lovely emerald locket as proof. The locket that his father most likely gave him. I think you may have heard of the man. Lord Voldemort Slytherin. The man responsible for your parents' death. The same man that has been hell-bent on hunting you for years.”

With each word all Harry could feel was a sharp knife stabbed into his heart. It wasn't just about the information Alessio was telling him. Oh no, that was just a part of the heartbreak. Why did Alessio always have to be right? This wasn't about winning the argument, but he always did this. He always made Harry feel small and incompetent in moments like these.

This isn't what Harry wanted. He knew that there was no coming back to what they were, but now not even their friendship could be salvaged.

“You knew who I was all along, didn't you?” Harry whispered, tears now beginning to fall down his cheeks. “You used me. You have been using me all this time, haven't you? I loved you, Alessio. I still love you. I can't do this anymore. I am done.”

“Harry, I did it for your protection! Listen to reason! It isn't safe-”

“This isn't protection, Alessio. This is control. All my life I had to listen to other people tell me what is best for me. I've been done with that for a very long time. I listen to reason, Alessio, and that is my own.”

“Harry!”

“Don't touch me, Alessio. We are done talking.” with that the green-eyed boy left, tears still falling down his shimmering green eyes, that betrayed the roaring emotions behind his stony expression. He left to his own room, the dim lighting giving some privacy to his tear stricken face.

“I love you too, Harry. I love you.” Alessio had whispered brokenly after him, but he knew it was too little, too late.

That night both of them did not find a wink of sleep. Alessio being broken and hollow from this loss and Harry coming to terms and preparing with the consequences of last night.


	9. Chapter 9

08.Jan. 1454

“How are you feeling, Harry?” Silvio asked him as Harry took his usual spot next to the navigator and sullenly scribbled in his journal. The sketch had even less of his usual enthusiasm. “We're soon approaching Alexandria's harbour. Surely that is news to perk you up?”

“Apologies, my dear Silvio, but the sooner I am off this ship, the better I will feel. I feel like I am suffocating.”

“I... I understand, Harry. Neither the crew nor I hold your decision against you. Sometimes things like these happen when matters of business and matters of the heart intermingle. You were too good for Alessio, anyway. We could all see it, you know? He's still our Captain, but we're all human, you know? He broke your heart one time too many. It wasn't our place to interfere.”

“That's the problem, Silvio. He interfered with things that were not his business. He betrayed my trust and now I can safely say I can spend the rest of my life without seeing his face or hearing his voice. I may find it in me to forgive him someday but today is not that day.”

“I see, Harry. I hope you will not hold it against me for staying on this ship. She's my girl, you know. I've spent so many years taking care of her.”

“Of course not, Silvio. You are still invited to join us for the Easter festivities. I'm certain Nana Dromeda, I mean Lady Allegra, would be livid if you are missing.”

Silvio laughed, more out of relief than Harry's remark about the Lady of the House.

* * *

Harry's mood did not improve in any significant way with their arrival in Alexandria. He was still uncertain what to do with the new information about Tom's true identity. Was he really the Slytherin Prince? Harry felt numb just thinking about it.

How could he be, when he had looked at him that evening in such a loving and tender way?

How could he be, when he kissed him so passionately?

How could he be, when all he saw was a man who took his breath away?

How could he be, when all he thought of was how he was going to spend his life with him?

It wasn't fair.

Why did lady Fate try so hard to take everything he loved away from him?

It wasn't fair!

* * *

Harry was the first to leave the ship as soon as they docked. He was determined to get this done with clinical precision and efficiency so he'd have more time to deal with his personal issues. He needed to find a suitable gift for Teddy first and foremost, and also something for Lady Allegra. It went without saying really.

Alexandria was a strange trading port city, if Harry could say so himself. It frankly looked like a run-down village in the majority of its areas. It was also under Venitian rule and the only reason Alexandria was still standing in some capacity despite the blatant poverty, was the Venetian-ruled warehouses that did trade with everything to the west in the Mediterranean and beyond.

It was in such a warehouse that Harry had business with today. Usually, he'd be here with Alessio and his guards but Harry did not have the desire nor patience to deal with them. His stormy mood followed him well around the docks as he looked for a place to grab breakfast. He was quite honestly starving and there were plenty of decent eateries to satisfy his hunger.

His entourage found him drinking qawha and making small talk with a few men. The pleasant smile on Harry's face disappeared the moment his eyes landed on Alessio. He said his farewells with his Arabian breakfast companions and joined Alessio's entourage on their way to the warehouse.

This is where Harry truly shines, Alessio thought as he looked upon him. It wasn't his beauty or vivaciousness that drew people in. He was like an underwater current, like a vortex that drew people in and never let go. Perhaps he was far too distracted to be doing this right now but he couldn't help it.

Look upon this beautiful creature, his heart would say.

Look upon all that you have lost and despair.

And Alessio despaired, expression stony and unperturbed by anything, but heart burning, breaking and tearing with every second.

I deserve this, he'd tell himself and not a second too soon would the vicious cycle of yearning and self-hatred begin anew.

Business went well. Harry was young but already an expert with this kind of thing. It was no small wonder why Dumbledore wanted him a member of his secret order. He was charismatic, charming, beautiful, brilliant. And just as vicious as any lion. He negotiated for the best prices, for the best materials. Only he knew exactly what he was looking for to create his inventions.

Alessio had seen once upon a time some of these schematics. Nowadays Harry was far more careful with his ideas and designs and no longer leaving them all over the place. They were elegant and practical things, ranging from arches and bridges to machines of war, to this mission's small arbalests that could fit into your hand and were somewhat quick to reload. Superior to the current matchlock design with its subtlety and relative silence. An elegant weapon, perfect for an ambush, for assassination.

Harry was not a violent man by nature. In fact, as active as he was he much more preferred his potted herbs and flowers and taking care of his chickens back home in Florence to taking part in any war. He had been through too much heartbreak, had seen too much loss. Harry is a loving man, not godly enough, that was obvious to anyone, but a good, honest, loving man.

Why was he going along with Dumbledore's plans if he was so opposed to joining him, to participate in this war?

He was doing this for Teddy and for the Lady Andromeda Black that nowadays paraded as a distant aunt of his, a Lady Allegra something or other. He was doing this for the only family he had left.

And with these thoughts, Alessio hated himself just a little bit more.

* * *

It was on the second day of his stay in Alexandria that Harry finally found the motivation to seek out Zahi the Eagle. He was not exactly easy to find but the moment he did, Harry knew why he had the moniker “The Eagle”. Zahi was an imposing figure, tall, broad-shouldered, but thin, made of wiry muscles. It wasn't his figure that earned him the moniker. It was his eyes. Against his dark brown skin, his hazel eyes made them gleam like the golden eyes he has seen on many raptors. Harry was certain this man was an assassin just like Tom just by the look of him.

The thought made his heart clench painfully. He had no idea what he wanted at this point. All he knew was that he needed to confront Tom and figure out things from there.

Zahi was a man of few words but despite his imposing figure, he was rather friendly and very respectful. When they spoke, Harry lost his nerve and asked Zahi to take a message from him to Tom, instead of following Zahi to wherever Tom was.

Idiot, he'd call himself, alone in his cabin.

Another sleepless night filled with turmoil followed.

What of Teddy? What of Dromeda? He had promised to protect them. He can't be doing this!

He deserved happiness! Tom would never hurt him, he just knew it!

Harry tossed and turned and no equilibrium of heart and mind was found by the time the first rays of the sun shone upon Alexandria's docks.

One way or another, he had to end this uncertainty, this internal chaos. He had one more day in which to think on things.

Silvio accompanied him to the market to help him find things for Teddy and his Nana. The stroll through the market wasn't as enthusiastic as he'd imagined it would be. At some point Harry took the two of them to a small eatery that smelled of qahwa and got himself some. Silvio cautiously tried the beverage and nearly choked at the bitter taste, which had Harry smile half-heartedly.

Silvio did not pry into Harry's problems but he told him he was there for him nonetheless.

Silvio was a good friend.

* * *

At the dawn of the third day, after yet another sleepless night, Harry finally found the resolve to do what had to be done. He needed to face Tom, he needed to talk to him. To...to what end, it didn't matter anymore. He needed to end this torture.

He had also yet to find a ship willing to join their convoy for the remaining duration of their Voyage.

Alessio found him before he left the ship, looking no less miserable than Harry himself.

“Harry, this is madness. Stop this, I am sorry. But please, stop this nonsense! You do not eat, you do not sleep! You will waste away! I will do everything to fix this, I swear, I-”

“Let go, Alessio. That's all you have to do. Let me go and let me grieve the loss of what we had. I told you that I am done.”

They made a scene on the main deck, in full view of Alessio's sailors, but nobody dared make a comment. The Greater Good's crew had been a tight-knit bunch for years. They had all been witness to the brewing disaster that was Alessio and Harry. And now they were watching the death throes of that relationship. There was nothing to say, nothing to comment. It was not pleasant watching people you knew and respected hurt like this. 

“Harry, please!”

Alessio does not beg. Yet here he was, doing just that. Too little, too late. It was all that it was.

“I said let me go!”

“You are not leaving this ship, Harry. You are clearly very unwell and I will have you on bed rest. The physician will have a look at you and-

Splash!

“Harry! Dammit, Harry, come back!” Alessio despaired.

Now that he was in the water there was a snowball's chance in hell that they'd find him. He wasn't known as the sea lion of Florence for nothing.

“Does anyone see the boy?” A brave sailor asked out loud.

“Harry? Nope. I don't see him on this side of the deck, what about you, Luciano?”

“Nothing on this side of the deck either, Bosco.”

The sailors weren't exactly too keen to look for Harry. Heck, who would be, when every single one of them knew the only reason Harry didn't live underwater was because he still had to breathe air. He was probably on the other side of the dock by now.

Silvio dragged Alessio to his cabin and promptly got his captain-cousin drunk on some high-quality wine.

Sorry, Harry, he thought, Alessio needs this and I know you are going to see that beau of yours. I hope he is worth it, Harry.


	10. Chapter 10

Harry woke late in the afternoon feeling more rested than he had felt in ages. His green eyes took in the unfamiliar surroundings and it was a moment or two before he remembered the happenings of the previous day.

His cheeks burned crimson with embarrassment, remembering crying like a small child in Tom's arms.

Harry groaned and rubbed his face with both arms. He was almost completely naked and draped with at least four blankets. He felt warm and comfy and it was his bladder that finally forced him out of the comfiest bed he had ever slept in. The sheets were something else. Egyptian cotton was certainly the finest. He absentmindedly made a mental note to procure some for Nana's perusal.

So, this was Tom's private bed chamber. Harry looked around curiously, noting the clinically clean state of it, how everything, except the bed he just got out of, seemed to be neat and in its proper place.

It suited Tom, Harry guessed, right down to the ridiculously comfy and luxurious bed.

“I am taking that with me,” Harry mumbled quietly, half-serious as he contemplated the bed.

A chuckle got him out of his musings and he whipped his head around to look at the source – Tom.

“Finally awake, I see.” there was that warm smile on his face that Harry was certain was only reserved for him. A warm feeling spread from the centre of his chest to his face, limbs and gut. It felt good to be wanted like this.

“I was really tired. Maybe I should drink less qahwa.”

Now Tom outright laughed.

“You look better,” Harry stated. Tom's bruises were already healing quite well. A week or two more would have them completely gone. Harry wanted to ask him for whatever medicine or poultices he used for them. He'd feel far more secure as a parent to Teddy with them by his side. And Tom, a quiet little voice at the back of his head whispered.

Harry flushed at the fleeting thought.

“You look horrible, Harry, but that is a great improvement from yesterday.”

“I am sorry to have worried you like this. I ruined everything and-”

“No, Harry. Don't apologize. You are here now, aren't you? All is well right now and that is all that matters.”

Harry couldn't help but empathize with those words. Right now, huh? Well, that is all he was holding on to. All that he could mentally and emotionally handle. Just thinking about the conversation he needed to have with Tom was nearly enough to send him over the edge again. Perhaps he was selfish to want one night of passion, to create a beautiful memory before it all got ripped to shreds.

He needed to be selfish, at least this once. He needed Tom.

He stepped closer to Tom and wrapped his arms around him. Tom remained quiet, slightly apprehensive at the gesture, unused to such gentle handling, but he too wrapped his hands around the boy.

“Do you wish to talk about this, Harry?”

“Not yet. I just need you, right now.” Harry breathed out into the crook of his neck and the gentle caress of his lips against his skin sent an electric current down his spine and made every single hair on his body stand on end.

Fire was burning his veins to ash and Tom swallowed dryly.

“I want to kiss you, Harry,” he said, voice slightly raspy and oh so dark and husky.

Harry looked up, green eyes half-lidded and so bright, burning with desire.

“Then kiss me, Tom.”

Just as before, Tom started his kisses slow and careful, tender, apprehensive, full of affection and the desire to show it. Harry's respond with little nips at his lips, a swipe of tongue here, a moan there and Tom would deepen the kisses, a direct result of Harry's positive reactions.

Neither remembers how they got back into the bed, but neither cared either way. They weren't in a hurry. They had each other and the moment and they dedicated themselves fully to it.

Harry was pinned underneath Tom and had wrapped his long, elegant limbs around him. His thick black hair was spread in a beautiful halo of disarray and chaos around him, his half-lidded green eyes never leaving Tom's blue ones. Tom's large rough hands roamed whichever part of Harry they could get a hold of, caressing, grabbing, massaging, exploring, enticing the most beautiful sounds from his lover, true music to Tom's ears.

A surprised gasp left the older man's mouth as Harry began rocking and rubbing himself against him. Using the moment, Harry flipped their positions with surprising ease, reminding Tom of the fact that the boy was obviously experienced in these matters.

A dark gleam shone in Harry's eyes as he got a hold of tom's hands into his own, bent down and kissed him, exploring his mouth with his tongue, all the while rocking himself even faster on top of Tom.

The older man gasped for air as Harry pulled away only to make a trail of kisses down his chin and neck. An unsatisfied grow erupted from Harry's throat as he stopped rocking and straightened his back. Tom looked confused and Harry's hands left his own, but when he felt them on his chest, swiftly and expertly removing his shirt, he immediately understood that he was overdressed for the occasion.

He sat up, Harry still straddling him, and removed said offending clothing article. He needed to remove his pants next.

“Do you want me to...?” Tom trailed off under Harry's intense, blisteringly hot emerald gaze.

“No, leave that to me,” Harry responded, his voice dragging out sensually like a moan, as he eased Tom back into lying on the bed. “I will worship every inch of your body,” he whispered breathily into Tom's ear before gently biting it, and continuing onto a trail of nips, nibbles and kisses.

Tom's body was littered with a plethora of scars, some new, some old, some large and some barely visible. His muscles were taut, always ready to respond to the next danger, no matter what it was or when it would happen.

Tom's muscles were simply not prepared for Harry. Heck, Tom in his entirety was not prepared for Harry and the older man suspected Harry'd completely spoil him by the end of the night. It wasn't even completely dark outside yet!

Harry was giving and affectionate and not afraid to ask what made him feel good. He raked his hands through his messy curls and whispered sweet nothings, and praises, and affection the likes of which he had not treated to, ever.

Tom felt like butter, melting into Harry's hands, and mouth, and tongue. When he felt Harry's fingers tug onto his pants, his abdominal muscles coiled into anticipation of what would come next. A warm hand with long elegant fingers took a hold of him gently, carefully, despite his apparent need and then the other, free hand squeezed his thigh.

Tom groaned.

When Harry's hot breath joined his hand Tom could not help but prop himself up on his elbows to watch the performance the younger man was about to give. Harry's emerald eyes gleamed with that dark, lust-filled haze and they were entirely focused on the older man's erect member.

If Tom's face hadn't been so flushed by this point, now would have been the time to really flush in pleased embarrassment.

Harry's hand began to move, squeezing ever so slightly, determined to prolong this performance as long as he could, to an almost tortuous extent. When Harry's mouth joined his hand, Tom knew that was the moment he completely fell apart.

He groaned and moaned, writhed under the younger man's skilful touch, gasped Harry's name like a desperate prayer, feeling himself every so slowly coming closer to the edge of what he could handle.

The black-haired man swallowed him whole, sucking to the very tip and then back down again until he could feel his wet chin touching his overstimulated balls, cupped by Harry's other hand.

A hand flew into Harry's hair and held on a bit more forcefully than intended, which prompted Harry to double his efforts. The hand cupping his balls slipped underneath, between his butt cheeks and he felt it caress his anus.

A finger entered him and his back arched with pleasure and it was all he could do as he then collapsed from this powerful orgasm. And amidst it all, the boy had kept going, bobbing his head, milking him for all that he was worth and drinking every single last drop of him.

The boy climbed on top of him once more, mindful of his need to recuperate, yet still carefully seating himself. He tilted his head to the side, hair falling like a thick curtain, a colour of the darkest winter midnight.

God, he was so beautiful.

“You're so beautiful, Harry. My God, you are perfect. Perfection” he said lovingly, smiling, completely satisfied, relaxed and at ease. He hadn't felt like this in a long time. Both physically and emotionally. Scratch that, he'd never felt like this.

Physically or emotionally.

Harry had said he'd worship him.

Tom felt worshipped, alright.

Heck, Tom felt loved!

Was this love? Was this what being in love felt like?

“Oh, Tom.” Harry shuddered out.

“Harry? Is everything alright?” Tom felt confusion, which was immediately replaced by worry at the sight of Harry's unshed tears.

“Can we talk about this in the morning, Tom? I just want you to hold me right now.”

“Anything you want, love. We can talk in the morning. Or whenever you feel comfortable telling me what is bothering you.”

Harry laid down upon him and snuggled into the older man's chest. Tomorrow, it would be all over. But tonight? Tonight he is in Tom's safe, warm embrace.


	11. Chapter 11

12.Jan.1454 – early morning, twilight hours

“Luciano, do you think Harry, er, drowned?”

“If he did, there is no way for us to tell, his body would've been dragged by the receding tide into the open sea. Which means I doubt we'd find his body if that were the case.”

“Stop giving the kid ideas, Bosco! Don't worry, Luciano, they don't call Harry a Sea Lion for no reason. Oi, Bosco, remember last summer? In Marseilles? When that little girl thought Harry was a pretty mermaid? And Harry played along and our captain had to drag him out of the water by the ear on the third day? Or that time in Casablanca? Those were good times!”

“Speaking of the captain, where do you think he went?” Luciano asked, curious.

“Eeeh, either he is still drinking the last of Harry's wine or he is with Captain Mad-Eye.”

“Probably with Mad-Eye, Marcelo. If I know my captains, and I dare say I know them well at this point, Mad-Eye's going bonkers aboard The Maiden. Constant vigilance! And all that.”

“Is Captain Mad-Eye really that scary? Like in the stories?”

“Don't get fooled, Luciano. The stories you heard? Complete and utter bull." Luciano was about to look relieved but Marcelo kept talking. "Those were the little kiddy version. Mad-Eye's fought in the war, you know. Bloody crazy mercenary. He's been Dumbledore's man from the very start, though. So long as you keep your head from any crime, you'll be safe. Man's got a screw loose. At least a dozen, actually. Master Dumbledore's got a tight leash on his Mad Dog, so we are safe. I think.”

Luciano did not look any more assured by Marcelo's words. But then he looked at something behind his brother Bosco.

“Isn't that Silvio? With...Harry's Journal? And... inventor things?”

Neither Bosco nor Marcelo turned around, let alone react.

“Luciano. First rule on The Greater Good. Nothing happened. You did not see Silvio, and if you saw him he wasn't carrying anything. But you never saw him, understood? Now stop looking.”

“But-”

“No buts, little brother. You never saw anything happen. You keep your head down and do the work you are paid for. Right, Marcelo?”

“Right. Hey, Bosco?”

“Yeah?”

“Remember Alfredo? You know, that Alfredo, not the one from Pisa.”

“Weren't both Alfredos from Pisa?”

“You are right, Bosco! Well then, the one without the elbow trick?”

“What was the elbow trick?” Luciano asked but the older sailors ignored him.

“You see, Luciano, Alfredo liked to know things.”

“Yes, Alfredo was curious.”

“Too curious, in fact!”

“And one day Alfredo found out one thing too many.”

“And we never saw him again.”

“Yes, yes!”

“Don't be like Alfredo, Luciano. The less you know, the better.”

Both sailors nodded sagely at their junior, Luciano, who took in their pearls of wisdom with the utmost respect.

“Hey! You two again!? Are you still spreading bullshit about Alfredo? Don't believe everything they say, kid. Alfredo's The Maiden Ariana's First Mate now. God knows he earned it through hard work and sheer determination. But they are right, kid. The less you know, the better, alright?”

Silvio winked at the young sailor and went back to his cabin.

At least Harry's belongings were safe from Mad-Eye's grasp. The last thing he wanted was for the bastard to find out that Harry had a new beau, who just happened to be the Prince of Serpents. He sent a silent prayer to the boy.

He had seen how the man looked at Harry, all the way back in Tripoli. The kid deserved to find happiness. Even if it came from the strangest of places. But to find love with an enemy? Strange were the threads that Fate weaved.

He only hoped that man, Zahi, would bring Harry's belongings safely.

* * *

Harry woke up absolutely famished. Still feeling sleepy and in desperate need to postpone the inevitable upcoming conversation with Tom, he snuggled into the older man's neck and wrapped himself around him.

To have a lover to snuggle up to when he woke up! It was everything Harry wanted and more. Their naked bodies were pressed against each other, relaxed, safe, secure. If he were to chose only a single moment worth remembering with Tom, this would be it. Tom's strong hands around his shoulders, the steady, slow sound of his heartbeat, the light stubble poking and scraping at his temple and forehead. His relaxed expression, the gentle smile that was even now on his lips.

His warmth.

His everything.

Why must it all end?

What if he never told him? He doesn't know he's Harry Potter. He knows that he is Harry of Florence!

But no, that would never amount to anything good. In the best-case scenario, Harry would essentially be doing to Tom that which Alessio did to him, which he found to be completely unacceptable.

This was the only way. It was the best for both of them.

* * *

Tom woke up that morning with a plan. A plan that involved bathing with Harry, eating breakfast and then promptly fucking his brains out, preferably until early afternoon when they'd have to eat again.

It was a simple plan. A good plan. All the best plans were simple and easy to follow. And then he felt Harry's tears upon his skin and his good mood crashed down and immediately got replaced with worry for his young lover.

“What's wrong Harry. Would you like to talk now? I am willing to listen.”

“I believe I should start at the beginning. It's only right that you understand where I am coming from with all of this.”

Tom nodded silently, Harry not seeing but rather feeling the action as he was still glued to the crook of his neck, unwilling to let go, desperate to hold on to this bit of happiness that was Tom.

“You remember I told you that I only had myself, right? Well, it was not always so. When I was a small child, a baby even, my parents were murdered. I was sent to live with relatives of mine who were not the nicest people but who also certainly did not deserve to die... because of me. I was left on the streets for quite a while then. I remember it being winter, it was really, really cold and a nice man came around and gave me his coat. He told me he was my godfather and that he had been looking for me all this time... In the end, he too died, leaving me all alone until a few years ago one of his cousins came along with her grandson. Now they are all the family I have left and I fear for their safety every single moment. Does... Does any of this sound familiar to you, Tom?”

Tom let out a heavy sigh. He'd say no and kiss away his lover's worries. But he would be lying. And given the state he had found the boy in, it must have taken a lot out of him to say this, especially after last night. What a lonely life must his beautiful sea lion live, to desperately seek solace in the arms of his enemy.

“It does, Harry. It does sound familiar. I wish it didn't. I wish you didn't tell me.”

His father had been looking for the boy for years. Not because he was dangerous. Hell, Harry was the least dangerous person Tom's ever met. Harry was absolutely daft if he had to be anything in particular. No, Lord Voldemort wanted this boy dead for the sheer crime of being ridiculously lucky to have survived the collapse of his own home. He remembered people reporting a lightning-shaped scar. But he did not see such a thing on the boy's face. Either the boy's deeply tanned skin and his literal lifetime at sea did wonders to hide the scar, or it was a fabrication of the enemy to cover their tracks and hide him.

Tom pulled Harry up to his eye level and rolled him to the side, so he could at least look at him while they were having this serious conversation.

Ah, yes. There it was. So faint and barely visible, but still managing to nick the very top of Harry's right eyebrow. Like everything with Harry, so was his scar such that if you weren't actively looking for it, you'd miss it. However, it looked less like a lightning bolt and more like that ancient rune, Sowilo.

“I know who you are.” Harry continued hesitantly but determined to see this to the end. “You are the Prince of Serpents. The assassin everybody is afraid of. Voldemort's greatest weapon.”

Tom swallowed dryly.

“Do you know who I am, Tom? Is that even your real name?”

“Harry, don't.”

“I am Harry Potter. The-Boy-Who-Lived.”

“Why are you doing this, Harry? To me? To us?”

“It's better this way.”

“How can it possibly be better, Harry? In what way?”

“It'll hurt less. This is better than to live a lie.”

“But what a beautiful, lovely lie it could have been. Do you think that lie would've made what we have any less real Harry?”

“I can't do this anymore, Tom. I can't. Teddy and Nana. They- They are my family now. I can't watch them die as well. I can't!”

“Then...last night. Why did you-?”

“I am a weak man, Tom. I wanted to be selfish just this once. I wanted to worship you and I did. I wanted to wake up, still being held in your arms... and I did. Is it so bad to want these things, Tom? Even if you killed me right now, I'd die with a smile, because I would've died in your arms, looking at your handsome face and your blue eyes.

Did you know your eyes take my breath away? Do you remember that moment, Tom? When our eyes met for the first time? I dived in to save you, to pull you out of the sea, because your eyes took my breath away. Because I couldn't live without looking at them at least one more time.”

“I remember,” Tom whispered back brokenly. “I remember seeing a mermaid with beautiful green eyes. Can you believe it, Harry? I saw you with a fishtail, fins and all. Truly, a fantastical dream. And then you were there before me, quite real and equally as impossible.”

Tom held Harry closer and kissed his face tenderly and lovingly, as he would always want to do. He felt Harry's embrace tighten and his body shake with quiet sobs.

“Don't cry, Harry. It's ok. I am here. Everything will be fine.” he whispered his sweet nothings quietly, all the while kissing his beloved wherever his mouth could find.

He'd never lay a finger on Harry. Of that he was certain. He'd never felt at peace like this, being held in his arms. He'd never felt so wanted, so desired, so loved. Not because he was The Prince of Serpents, but because he was simple, ordinary Tom of Durazzo.

It was his real name. The name his mother had given him with her dying breath after he was born. He himself had been an orphan, running through the streets of the Albanian port city. He had tried stealing from the wrong person and got caught... by his own father no less. He was a spitting image of him, a fact that brought him both relief and turmoil. Relief that, yes, he did have a family. Turmoil that it was that cruel face that he had to bear both during punishments and onto himself, driving fear into the hearts of his father's underlings and no chance of finding an emotional respite.

And then Harry came along and literally turned his life on its head.

Sure, Tom had very serious problems right now, like finding his family's heirloom that he spent so many years proving to his father to be worthy of.... and dealing with the pirates who had sabotaged and consequently sacked his ships just shy of reaching Tripoli's port. At least his mission had been completed without any problems and now he had some time to himself, to recuperate from his injuries... and, at least that was the plan, to spend quite some time in the bedsheets with Harry.

The special oil and the toys he'd prepared were in the third drawer on the left side, he reminded himself idly.

No, Tom had zero intentions of killing Harry. In fact, he had a plan to do the exact opposite.

“Let's forget all of this for now, Harry. Let us be just you and I, Don't think about past or future. All we have is now. And right now, my dear, you are in desperate need of ravishing and it seems I have volunteered myself for the cause.”

Harry choked out a relieved laugh, the sparkle back in his eyes.

And the thing about plans? They were always subject to change.

Tom thoroughly bothered every part of Harry's body with his rough, calloused hands, including his delightfully eager rod during their bath. He took both of them in one hand and worked them both to their simultaneous release, as Tom did his best to hold out and match himself with his lover, who was just ever so responsive to each and every single one of his touches.

Breakfast gave his maidservants time to change the bedding and also give them time to recuperate after their fun in the baths. Harry was indeed quite famished, the sight of his appetite making Tom ravenous in other ways.

This thing that they have here, at this very moment? It is what equal partners had. They were not The-Boy-Who-Lived and the Prince of Serpents. They weren't sworn enemies.

No. Here they were just Harry, The Sea Lion of Florence and Tom, The Man from Durazzo. They were equals.

And it was liberating.

“Look at you smirking like this right now.” Tom started teasingly. “So satisfied, so relaxed and happy. You do realize I am not done with you yet, do you not, beloved? I am quite intent on ploughing into you like a monsoon a particularly parched desert. This has been, in fact, my intent since we parted in Tripoli.”

“Well then, my lovely Tom, I am yours to do as you please with,” Harry stated confidently, before spotting Tom's dark and hungry look and yelping in surprise and the older man easily and deftly picked him to move him back into the bedroom.

“And I am yours to satisfy your every whim and desire,” Tom replies huskily, his words going straight to Harry's loins like a jolt of fire.

Harry yelped again as Tom threw him onto the bed and then yet again in protest, as Tom turned away to pick up something, seemingly ignoring his delectable companion.

Harry's protests died in his throat as the older man turned his attention back to him, now armed with a small crystal bottle filled with some kind of liquid.

“This is a very special oil, Harry. Very hard to procure, let me tell you that. Very much worth the gold spent on it.” He gave the bottle to his lover who inspected it curiously. “The question now is what do you want us to do Harry. I think I was quite clear in my intentions. But I also told you that I will fulfil your every whim and desire.”

Tom looked one hundred percent serious with that statement, which Harry found to be utterly ridiculous. This was Tom, after all, the Prince of Serpents! Just the whispers of him were terrifying! That, coupled with his reaction to his ministrations last night, lead Harry to the very probable conclusion that he had a virgin ass.

Oh boy.

“Tom? Have you done this...before?” Harry gestured at the small crystal bottle.

“Of course? I do believe you'd find me a very satisfying partner in bed. Why do you ask, Harry?”

  
Tom thought that should've been plainly obvious by now.

“Well, blunt it is. Tom, have you ever been fucked in the ass before?”

Ah. Such telling silence.

“If you are not comfortable with it, that's perfectly fine, Tom. Though the idea of being your first does sound quite... enticing.” Harry grinned sheepishly, though his eyes carried that dark hungry gleam again. Such a delightfully obscene look that was on him, on his Harry.

“It is a position that finds me... vulnerable... and I have been trained extensively, for years, to avoid unnecessary vulnerability.”

“If it's the position that bothers you, we could always change it. I want you on top of me, Tom, straddling me with your strong thighs, moaning my name, pinning my hands with one arm and holding onto my throat with the other, while you find your release onto my body and I mine within you.”

Tom swallowed dryly as his mind followed Harry's words to the tee. He had the gaze of a desperately thirsty man who was about to end his dry spell. It was hard to think of anything else as the boy's hands were already all over him and his quiet husky voice whispering dirty, unspeakable things that were about to be made real.

Tom pushed Harry to lie down on the bed, a bit more forcefully than strictly needed but Tom had noted that Harry enjoys it when he was rougher. It was what Harry wanted and he had just stated that he'd do pretty much anything for him.

He felt apprehensive but exhilarated at the same time. No one had ever dared to want this of him and no one had made him feel comfortable and safe enough to want to do this. To be penetrated in such a way. He poured some of the oil into his palm and began to meticulously lubricate the boy's member. His calloused hands, combined with the properties of the oil made the boy undone within moments of his touch. Not enough for release but certainly enough to penetrate his tight puckered virgin hole.

Tom rocked back an forth much like Harry did last night, one hand caressing the both of them in tandem with his undulating motions, while the other was slowly massaging his behind, in between his butt cheeks, where his entrance was reacting gloriously to the touch of his own hand.

He knew how this dance went but it was the first time he was doing this to himself. His thoroughly captivated audience was at the very least half the reason why he found himself enjoying this so much.

First went in one knuckle, then the second and third one. Then he slowly added a second finger to the first. A third joined in. Harry's hands were all over the place, his young lover singing praises (or were they prayers? Harry did say he'd worship every bit of him).

Beneath him was his lover with his black hair in a halo about his face. His angel. His mermaid. His equal. His saviour.

His Harry.

He eased himself onto Harry, accompanied by a plethora of “are you comfortable” and “Does it hurt?” questions, the generous and reassuring squeezing and gripping of thighs, hips and buttocks, feelings of trust, safety and comfort flowing between them.

“Nnnngh! You are just right for me, Harry. Oh, I feel so full!”

“Slowly! Not too fast, Tom!” Harry warned even as his own hips twitched.

As Tom eased onto Harry's full length, he let his hands fall on both sides of his lover and he arched his back like a cat, groaning from the overstimulating, intense pleasure he was feeling. As he finally felt adjusted enough, he began with small up and down movements that quickly found their rhythm. Soon enough both of them were entangled in a dance of pleasure, to the music of their own grunts and groans, moans and whispered sweet nothings.

For all of his forty-something years of life, this was perhaps the most intense sexual experience he's had to date.

With that gratifying thought, Tom picked up his pace earning him a surprised yelp from Harry. He smirked at his lover and sat up straighter, falling down onto him at a deeper and even more pleasurable angle. He caught his hands and pinned them above Harry's head, his free hand finding Harry's throat and gently squeezing, caressing one of his jugulars with a calloused thumb.

The decadent, absolutely obscene sight of his lover panting like a whore, completely at his mercy, yet perfectly safe in that same deadly grasp, sent him over the edge.

Harry's own release came moments after his own and Tom collapsed onto his young lover's awaiting warm embrace.

No further words needed to be exchanged.

The future was tomorrow's problem. Or the day after, or, better yet, next week.

Now was theirs. Now they had each other, despite everything that happened in the past.

And it is together that they'd face the future, whatever it held for them.


End file.
